The Vigan ‘longanizas‘ (sausages from Vigan, which is a town about 250 miles north of Manila and noted for its rich Spanish heritage) smelled even more garlicky that morning as I placed the remaining links on a clear bowl.
The sausages casings’ red-brown color together with the fat that dripped from the fillings, blended oh-so deliciously, with the generous oil that had accumulated under them. Eaten at breakfast and served over hot, white rice with a good cup of coffee, these ‘longanizas‘ will definitely see you through a long day of travel…which we had planned that Thursday of Dec 16.
By 9:30 in the morning we had already traversed the busy cities that had dotted Highway 880 -and a bit of I-80 – and had coasted cleanly into the towns of Vallejo as soon as we had exited the first off-ramp after we paid the $3 toll in the recently-remodeled Carquinez Bridge. It is one of the major spans that link the upper portion of Northern California with the Bay Area.
Highway 29 cradled us the rest of the way as we headed towards the majestic plains of Alexander Valley, in a place called Geyserville. The destination may not rub well with the altruists, but the journey was, nevertheless, close to being ethereal.
As soon as we left behind the old city of Vallejo, the scenery immediately turned rustic and was perfectly complemented by endless vineyards that caressed the entire length of Highway 29. We passed by quaint towns along the winding roads of Napa and Calistoga.
Both these places offered a study in contrast to over-consumptive materialism and utterly simple living. In addition to their huge manses, there were the usual gas-guzzling SUVs and expensive sports cars casually parked inside the huge lots of the vineyard owners. On the other side of the coin, there were the humble, one or two-room abodes of farmers or retired folks who love to till their own lands.
Passing through these rustic towns also gave me a sense of wonder as to why, we, mere mortals had to endure the banalities of modern living –even when these seemingly plain (but spectacular) sceneries could fill our inherent craving for inner peace and joy, much stronger.
The plains of Alexander Valley unfolded right before our already mesmerized eyes after Highway 29 turned into Highway 128 and almost immediately after we passed-by the last town in Calistoga. Highway 128 meandered along the rollings hills of the Valley until you hit the small town of Geyserville. A short, stone and steel bridge -one of the many that spans the 50-mile long Russian River – should serve as a good marker that you’re on the right track to Geyserville.
Our destination wasn’t the town but the Indian casino now called River Rock. It used to be called ‘Dry Creek Rancheria’ but casino operators -with their esurient skills for making money – probably realized their folly in naming a money-maker that had already dried-out and renamed it to something that constantly flows instead.
The place was situated up a steep hill that was accessible via a narrow road along Highway 128. There were multi-storeyed parking garages and most probably, a hotel, undergoing construction. But, the squat, main casino building was already in full action –ready to take your money away.
The panoramic view of the valley from the 4th-level garage parking offered a bit of spiritual relief from the voracious appetite of the slot machines and gaming tables below.
It’s probably the very first Indian casino that I had been to where I felt that I didn’t even have the chance to win, just a few minutes after inserting my money on the slot machine. The slot machines over there were really tight. Even Larry Ellison would probably shudder at the thought of how those slot machines were programmed to give the house an unbeatable edge.
River Rock, the place, is definitely on my “to visit” list. Eat and enjoy the scenery. But avoid the casino as much as possible, please. You might want to play at neighboring Hopland instead (a 30-minute drive further north from Geyserville).
There, the less-sophisticated slot machines of the ‘Shokawah Hopland’ will welcome you their kinder and gentler arms.
All told, the fantastic sceneries and the grapes planted all throughout Highway 29 that led us to River Rock, only served as mute witnesses, to our follies, perhaps, in our ways for the never-ending quest for something meaningful in life.